Draco Malfoy's Wingman
by Aerileigh
Summary: There is a time in the life of every young bachelor in which he becomes, ah,  conscious of a decided lack of feminine company. Enter the wingman, that best friend who goes to great lengths to ensure that the bachelor ends up with EXACTLY the right girl.


**A/N:** I wrote this for the last Fic Exchange at the DG Forum. If you'd like to do an exchange, you have until September 15 of this year to sign up. Just click on the link in my profile.

I wrote this for Megan, and I had a lovely time doing it. ^_^ Her prompt is at the end of the story.

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><p>There comes a time in the life of every young bachelor in which he becomes conscious of a decided lack of feminine company. In some cases, this realization causes men to think long and hard about their priorities, consider lifelong companionship, and have awkward conversations with their mothers about heirloom engagement rings.<p>

For others, it means that they get a bit grouchy, bark angrily at their fellow humans and are generally impossible to live with until that other institution of camaraderie and companionship steps in: the wingman.

In the case of our incredibly frustrated bachelor, however, the wingman took an unusual form.

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><p>"Merlin's arse, Malfoy! How am I supposed to catch passes like that? It's like you <em>want<em> me to get Bludgered to death."

Draco glanced at the blur of sky-blue practice robes that was shouting at him and drawled, "Maybe I do, Weasley."

Ginny Weasley pulled up directly in front of him and looked him straight in the eye. "You'd be a goner without me, and you know it," she said cockily. "The Appleby Arrows had terrible Quaffle handling stats before I was in the team."

Draco smirked. "We joined the same season," he pointed out. "That change might be due to _my _excellent ability."

She stuck her tongue out. "The world will never know, will they?"

"Tut, tut, Weasley. That's un-ladylike," he said, slowly beginning to descend to the ground.

She followed. "I'm a kick-arse professional Quidditch player, Malfoy. I'm not much concerned with lady-like . . . though something tells me you are."

His head snapped up of its own accord. "What?"

"You're out of sorts because you need to get laid," she said matter-of-factly. "I have enough older brothers to know the signs. My fifth year, before Ron and Lavender hooked up, Ron was—"

"—Gah! Weasley! I really do _not_ need to know. And I do not need to 'get laid,' either!"

She stepped nimbly off her broom and headed for the team's changing rooms. "Yes, you do. You need a shag, and you'll probably play terribly until you get one."

He lifted his eyebrows. "Weasley, are you—are you propositioning me?"

She blushed so easily that it was almost comical. "No! Me? No! Me? The idea. That's ridiculous. Don't be silly. We're—that would be—oh, no. No, no, no." She laughed awkwardly. "I'm sure you have a girl on the brain already, or you wouldn't be this way."

He sighed.

"There is someone! I knew it," she crowed triumphantly.

"How did you—" he tried, but the excitable redhead had thrown her free arm to the heavens.

"Oh, the sigh of unrequited love! What's her name? I'll help you. Normally that goes against the girl code, but if you don't get laid before the game with the Wasps next week, I refuse to be responsible for the consequences."

Draco stared at her, unsure where this bubbly side of his normally tough-as-nails teammate was coming from. She was also still flushed pink, he noticed. "I'm not tell—"

"It's that Greengrass girl, isn't it?"

He stopped in his tracks. "How did you know—"

"Between practices, games, and international competitions, we've spent hours and hours together over the past two years. I know you like Greengrass because I also know your favorite brand of toothpaste."

That was reasonable. He knew _her_ favorite brand of toothpaste.

She threw a grin over her shoulder and headed into the women's side of the changing rooms. "I happen to know where Astoria spends her afternoons. I'll be your wingman," she said with a wink.

"Not until you've showered, Weasley. I would never have a sweaty mess for a wingman."

"Right, but you'd love one in your bed," she called without turning around. "And you walked_ right_ into that one."

* * *

><p><em>The shower had helped quite a bit<em>, Draco mused as he put the finishing touches on his hair. He'd known for ages that Weasley was a bit mad; they'd spent the first six months on the team at each other's throats, cost the team eight games because they refused to pass to each other, and got two assistant coaches sacked in succession. Only when the Appleby Arrow's head coach forced the two to start having additional practices and made them bunk together on away trips had they finally started to find something resembling civility, and then friendship. But that didn't preclude insanity on her part. No, it was easily decided: Weasley was crazy.

She was waiting for him in the grand lobby adjacent to the pressroom, her straight red hair falling loose down her back. Since she usually wore it tightly braided or pulled back for Quidditch, it was always a little overwhelming to face so much bright red suddenly.

"I'm really not sure about your hair, Malfoy," she said thoughtfully. "The left side looks a little out of place."

His hand was halfway to his head before he dropped it. "Ha, ha. You're hysterical."

"I don't see why I, the girl, should have to wait twenty full minutes for you, the boy, to finesse your precious appearance. Do you want to go see Astoria or not?" she said cattily, folding her arms.

"Yes, yes. Lead on."

The two Quidditch players walked out of the stadium, blinking in the bright sunlight, and headed toward the Apparition point.

"Side-along?" Ginny queried, and Draco shrugged.

She looped her arm around his waist, and he was suddenly hyper-aware of the gentle rise and fall of her chest next to his. Despite her strength on the field, Weasley was slender, with the lean, muscular build of someone who spent hour after hour flying, but she was also very feminine. Draco wondered why he'd never noticed so intensely before; they were teammates. It wasn't like this was the first time they'd touched each other.

The pull of Apparition was sharp and quick. They landed in Diagon Alley, directly across from a quiet-looking little coffee shop. The sign swinging above the door declared the place to be "Dorothy Wop's Coffee Shop," and Astoria Greengrass was sitting at a table in the front room, her golden head bent over a thick book. Draco swallowed.

"She's studying to go from being a mediwizard to become a full-fledged Healer at St. Mungo's, so she has training there in the morning, and then she spends her afternoons studying here," Ginny said conspiratorially. "We were together at school, and then when I had that shoulder injury last season, she was on my therapy squad. So we keep in touch."

Draco just stared at the beauty in the window. Delicate golden waves framed a china-doll face, with lovely blue eyes—she was beautiful. He would have to think of a way to thank Weasley someday. Maybe name a golden haired, blue eyed baby after her. . . .

"Hellooo? Earth to Malfoy?" Ginny snapped her fingers in front of his face. "I asked if you'd rather go in or just stand here and stare?"

Draco followed Ginny inside the shop. The redhead marched up to the comfortable-looking woman behind the counter and said, "I'll have a regular coffee, black, and he'll have the ponciest drink you have. He doesn't care for coffee, so put in plenty of sugar and other shite."

She threw a mocking smile in his direction; he returned an annoyed sneer.

The woman—he could only assume she was Dorothy Wop—handed Ginny a mug of hot coffee and Draco a mug with a wobbly mountain of whipped cream gracing its yellow ceramic rim.

"There you are, dearie," she said with a wink. "Enjoy."

"Ten to one she has no idea who you are, but she thinks you have a nice arse," Ginny whispered as soon as she'd handed the woman a stack of Knuts.

Draco snorted. "That's not a bet I'm taking," he replied in a low voice, sipping his sugary drink. "It's a nice arse."

She flushed for the second time that day, and he thought about teasing her, but Astoria was just a few feet away, and he was so close to finally speaking to the beauty. . . .

"Astoria!" Ginny exclaimed brightly, and the love of Draco's life looked up, glanced at him, and bit her lip and gave a delicate snort of laughter. This was not precisely the reaction for which Draco had hoped, but perhaps—now Weasley was laughing. Hard.

"I _thought_ that was a lot of whipped cream," she said, handing him a napkin. "It's all over your nose, Draco!"

Draco accepted the napkin, swiped at his face, and headed toward the door. "We're going to be late, Ginny. Come on," he ordered austerely.

She jogged after him.

"You knew that was there!" he said angrily.

She blushed, but her eyes twinkled mischievously. They were a very rich shade of brown, especially when her color was heightened. "Would it help if I said that I thought it would endear Astoria to your mildly quirky ways?"

He swallowed that thought. "No!" he said. "You thought you'd make fun of me, did you?"

Her face fell, and she blinked up at him. "No, Mal—Draco. I thought I'd be your wingman, but I'm not very good at it, apparently. I've never done it before, you know."

"Oh, fine. I believe you. But for future reference, the job of the wingman is to make sure that I _don't_ come off looking like a buffoon," he said sternly. She nodded penitently, then grinned.

"I'm guessing that you don't want to try again now, and after today we have that trip to Canada to play Moosejaw, so in three days she'll have forgotten _and_ you'll have a win under your belt."

Draco considered this logic. Even playing at their best, there was no chance that the Moosejaw Meteorites would defeat the Arrows, so he would be coming off the glory of a win. And if he could have Astoria by his side in time for the Wasps game, that would make a week of triumph.

"Good thinking, Weasley," he drawled aloud. "I can have a couple of wins under my belt, then. And you walked_ right_ into that."

* * *

><p>They won by a colossal amount. Stevens caught the Snitch less than an hour into the game, which had meant that the team had spent most of their time in Canada celebrating—and dealing with subsequent hangovers.<p>

But something was mildly discomfiting about the entire trip. Even though the suite he shared with Weasley was plenty large, with separate baths and bedrooms, he still felt incredibly conscious of his space and hers. The two had been sharing suites—and on rare occasions (in smaller towns), rooms—for close to two years, and it had never been uncomfortable. It had produced shouting matches, damage charges on hotel bills, and eye rolling from every other member of the team, but never discomfort.

But this time, she'd been sitting on the lounge in the shared common area of the suite, flipping through the Canadian Wizarding Wireless, dressed in loose pajama bottoms and a singlet, and he'd taken one look and retreated to his room, shut the door, and laid awake for far too long.

When the team returned to Appleby and Weasley nodded when he pantomimed drinking a cup of coffee, he felt strangely relieved. He liked_Astoria_.

This time, Ginny's hair fell in loose curls when he found her in the lobby after practice.

"Like my hair?" she asked saucily, bouncing one of the locks in her hand. "I did all this and I still beat you."

"It looks very nice," Draco said politely. It did look nice; the way the curls made the subtle gold and auburn highlights shift was even mesmerizing, but he wasn't about to tell Weasley that her hair was mesmerizing. Merlin's arse, no.

They walked to the Apparition point in silence, and when they arrived, Draco didn't comment when Ginny wrapped an arm around him for Side-Along, even though he now knew exactly where they were headed.

Just as before, Astoria was seated at the table in front of the window, scanning a thick text diligently. She looked less doll-like today, Draco observed. More human.

Ginny sighed and led him inside, bypassing the coffee counter and walking directly up to Astoria.

"Hello again, Astoria," Ginny said brightly. "How have you been?"

The blonde looked up and smiled at Ginny, then Draco. "Oh, fine. My head is a bit full of facts about Dragon Pox at the moment, I'm afraid."

"Do you mind if we sit down for a moment?" Ginny asked. "Draco, why don't you order us some coffee so we girls can catch up?"

Confused, Draco obeyed and walked over to the counter. Dorothy Wop leered at him while she poured a cup of black coffee for Ginny; Draco had decided to forgo a drink, since he felt he'd had enough humiliation at the expense of caffeinated beverages for one week.

He glanced back to see that the two girls were leaning over the small table, talking in hushed tones. He didn't like this in the slightest; not because he didn't trust that Ginny was doing her best to be a good "wingman," but because he'd learned that any time two women got together and started whispering, it rarely meant anything good.

He set Ginny's drink down in front of her and pulled up a chair. "And just what are you ladies talking about?" he drawled.

"Oh, Quidditch, of course," Ginny said lightly, sipping her coffee.

Astoria nodded coolly. "Yes, I saw in _The Prophet_ that you had quite the victory in Canada."

"Draco played really well," Ginny commented, glancing at him mischievously.

Something felt off, but he was also sitting next to Astoria, and this was _the_ opportunity. "Well, I like to think I played well, but the credit goes to Stevens for finding the Snitch so quickly," he said, pleased with himself for managing to sound talented, humble and generous at the same time.

"Oh!" Ginny cried. "I just remembered that I need to pick up some more toothpaste while I'm in Diagon Alley. It's just next door—I'll do it now so I don't forget, if you don't mind."

She stood, grinned as though terribly pleased with herself, and hastened out of the shop.

"Toothpaste?" Astoria laughed.

Draco nodded. "She's nearly out, and she's really picky about it. She can't sleep unless her mouth tastes like Dr. Pepper's paste."

Astoria gave him an inquisitive look.

"It's because her mum drilled it into her head so thoroughly. Even though there are a million and one dental charms, she brushes before bed religiously," he finished lamely, realizing that he was talking to a beautiful woman about _Weasley's teeth_. Oh, how far he'd fallen.

"Better that than terrible hygiene," Astoria said politely, and Draco nearly winced. He had to save this conversation _quickly_.

He leaned across the table and gave Astoria his most charming smile. "I'd love to take you to dinner, love. If you—"

"Of all the—!" she cried, shutting her book and standing so quickly that her chair toppled backward. "Daphne said you were a pig, but I didn't think you were this despicable!"

And with that Parthian shaft, she grabbed her things and stormed out of the coffee shop, leaving Draco to the mercies of Dorothy Wop's overly-interested gaze. He sat stunned, so overwhelmed that he drank half of Ginny's coffee before he remembered that he didn't like it.

When Ginny returned, she found him spitting into the cup.

"Where's Astoria?" she asked cheerfully. "Did you ask her out?"

Draco stared pensively out of the window. "I tried. She called me a pig."

"A despicable pig," chirruped Madam Wop.

Draco stood up and handed Weasley her mug. "I want to go home," he announced. "Now."

She eyed the cup distastefully and set it down. "Alright," she said with a sigh. "I guess this means I'm a failure as a wingman."

_Or that I'm just a failure as a man_, Draco thought, vaguely noticing that Ginny's face was as bright as her hair.

* * *

><p>The final practice before the big game against the Appleby Arrows' long-time rivals, the Wimbourne Wasps, was a rough one. The Beaters were sloppy, Stevens was lazy, and none of the Chasers could catch a thing. The team was in low spirits by the time they hit the showers, and Draco spent a full extra half-hour on his hair, because it simply wouldn't sit right on his head.<p>

He was the last one out of the changing room, and he did not expect to see the mesmerizing hair of one Ginny Weasley waiting for him in the lobby. She was admiring the trophies on the far wall, but she turned as soon as she heard him.

"I know, the left side," he said with a half-hearted chuckle.

She shook her head and walked up to him. "No, your hair looks wonderful," she said softly. The beginning of a blush was forming on her neck and ears, highlighted by the bright locks of softly curling red hair that framed her face.

She blinked up at him with her bright brown gaze, and he noticed that her chin was tipped in defiance, a rather opposite expression from the doe eyes. "I've done something _terrible_, Malfoy," she proclaimed.

Draco snorted. "What have you done? Rigged the practice Quaffle? Stolen my best comb?"

She pressed her lips into a firm line. "No-oo," she said. "I—I was a bad wingman on purpose."

The red flush spread to her cheeks, and she looked away, at the ground. Draco found his hand on her chin, tipping her pink face toward his, before he realized what was happening.

"You sabotaged my chances with Astoria?" he asked stupidly. "Why?"

She glared fiercely at him. "'Why' do you think?"

Suddenly, realization came crashing down on Draco, and he felt like the entire stadium was caving in on him. "Because you—you—oh, Merlin—but you were so happy to help me!" he accused.

She swallowed. "I thought if you were with her, then I'd get over it. It's not like I wanted to—to—you know."

She liked him. Probably more than she realized. And he liked her too—liked her hair, and her eyes, and the way she stuck out her tongue when he teased her—

He arched an eyebrow. "Wanted to what, Weasley?" he said quietly.

She shrugged awkwardly, since his hand was still cupping her face. "Oh, you know."

He shook his head. "Wanted to _what_?" His voice was probably a full octave lower than normal, but he didn't care. For the first time in weeks, something was making sense.

"You let me have the whipped cream on my nose," he said softly. "And then you ribbed me about it. And in Canada, you knew things were awkward, and you didn't tease at all. And then—you let Astoria think we were a couple, didn't you? That's why she thought I was a pig."

She gave him a tiny smile. "I might have done more than 'let' her think, actually," she said sheepishly.

He shook his head. "And, if I'm right, during that very, very first conversation this week, you wanted to tell me that I should shag _you_."

She looked into his face with wide, bright eyes, and for once, she was silent.

Without preamble, he slid his hand back, catching the pads of his fingers just behind her ear, and brushed his lips against hers, gently capturing her lips in a soft kiss. She instantly met him, adding her own brand of crazy, fiery passion to the embrace. She tasted like sweet peppermint, and he smiled into the kiss as she tangled her eager hands in his perfectly arranged hair. He slowly deepened the kiss, and his free hand found its place on the small of her back. He pulled her close, crushing her against him as he pulled back from her mouth, gently adding a few light kisses before he looked at her sternly.

"You walked _right_ into that, Ginny," he said with a smirk.

She grinned. "So did you."

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><p>Yes, there comes a time in the life of every young bachelor when he realizes a decided need for feminine company. And while it is left for the reader to imagine any awkward conversations with the bachelor's mother about heirloom engagement rings, one may be very sure of the following fact:<p>

The Wimbourne Wasps were royally, utterly, completely and _totally_ trounced.

**The End**

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><p><strong>Megan's Prompt (#1)<strong>

**Basic premise:**Draco is after Astoria Greengrass, she wouldn't be hard to get if the youngest Weasley didn't keep foiling his plans.

**Must haves:**It should be humorous with a lot of flirting on both parts, told from Draco's POV.

**No-no's: **Hermione/Ron, smut.

**Rating range:** K - T

**Bonus points: **Many innuendos, a very public kiss in the Great Hall of any couple.

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><p><strong>AN: **Worlds of thanks to that beta-phenom, Miss Kim. ^_^

Reviews make me crazy happy. So happy, in fact, that the main squeeze can tell that I've got a review on my phone instead of a regular email or text because I grin like a loon. So please, make me grin like a loon. Of course, if you didn't like it, you should tell me that, too. I'll probably still grin, though. I'm weird like that.


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